


Split

by ShirosMissingBicep



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Galra/Altean, Implied Sexual Content, Implied/Referenced Brainwashing, M/M, OT3, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Recovered Memories, Recovery, Repressed Memories, This is happier than the tags imply i swear, Winter Shklance Exchange 2018, edited as much as i could!!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-30
Updated: 2018-12-30
Packaged: 2019-09-30 21:55:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 15,782
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17231894
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShirosMissingBicep/pseuds/ShirosMissingBicep
Summary: Shiro and Keith, reputable soldiers within Galran ranks, have found out secrets of the Empire which incriminate Zarkon as the murderer of the Black Lion Alfor, and prove that the Red Lion and Blue Lion lie within his pockets.With suspicion high, Shiro and Keith's relationship on the line, and a mission that, if completed, could bring destruction to the farthest reaches of space. Knowing this, they decide to desert the Empire, find their target, and protect him with their lives until they can transport the proof and the Altean to the Coalition.





	1. Keith

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lovelysky](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lovelysky/gifts).



> This............ came out a lot longer than expected. I really hope you enjoy it, because I loved writing it. Even though it was a pain in the ass to get finished hhaaah. 
> 
> There's a lot of things I've never really tried writing here, and I hope they came out okay. I really just wanted to give something I was proud of for my gift, so I'm excited to hear what you think (:

“Who are you!?” Keith growls as he activates his sword with a single thought. Surrounded by what Keith can only assume is this world's sand and very few man made structures in the distance, he feels sick when creatures approach. He can't let Shiro get hurt anymore.

 

In front of him stand three biped people, frightened and hesitant to answer his questions with much more than stutters. They’re dressed in clothes fit for the sand-filled wind with bandanas over their noses and mouths, long sleeved jackets and pants that protect their skin from the harsh sun looming above the horizon.

 

“Answer me before I kill you all,” Keith hisses, fingers growing tight around the hilt of his blade. “And trust me, I  _ will _ .”

 

“Hey, man- or whatever you are-, we're just tryin’ to help!” One of the three hurries to say, raising his hands as he steps forward slightly. Keith notes that he most definitely has a size advantage if they turn out to be less than savory company. “I'm Hunk, this is Leo, and Pidge. We're trying to help. What's your name?”

 

Keith watches the trio, eyes sharp despite the rhythmic throb in his head. Hunk, he guesses, is trustworthy enough.

 

“Keith,” Keith says, swallowing despite his dry mouth and throat. “My crewmate is Shiro.”

 

Keith’s eyes are drawn to the one called Leo, whose hands have fallen back to his sides. Blonde hair, green eyes, a soft tan on his skin. He seems nervous, more so than the others. His eyes track Keith's body a bit too closely to be untrained, and despite his too-much-blue garb, he’s poised with a strong posture.

 

“Okay, Keith, if you want, we can bring you and your friend what you need,” Hunk nods, seeming to relax a bit. Stupid, on his part, but Keith wasn't going to point it out. “How badly are you both injured?”

 

“We just need bandages,” Keith says, clipped and firm with his eyes locked on Leo. “You two,” He points his sword lightly at Hunk and Pidge. “Go get me bandages. This one stays with me.”

 

“W-What?” Leo finally spoke, eyes wide. His voice was shrill, but warm. Keith wasn't sure if he hated it or not. “Why?!”

 

“Because I would be an idiot to let all of you leave without having some insurance,” Keith says, as if the question is stupid,  _ because it is _ . “You'll be left unharmed as long as you and your people cooperate.”

 

“But why me?” Leo pushes, and with certainty that makes Keith falter. His friends are hesitant at Leo's questioning, seeming to want to avoid conflict. Keith’s the one with the sword, after all. But Leo doesn't seem all that scared of the blade itself, or of Keith’s threats.

 

Perhaps bravery? Or stupidity. They're one in the same, at times.

 

“I don't have to explain myself to you,” Keith shoots back with a sureness to match Leo's, only it merely causes his body to grow tense with agitation.

 

“ _ Actually _ , you crash landed on  _ our _ planet, are demanding  _ our _ medical supplies, names, and all other sorts of things all while wielding a sword and threatening  _ our _ lives. I think you explaining is the  _ least _ you could do!” Leo retorts, and fuck, he has a point. 

 

Once, it would have been simple for Keith. Kill them, take their things, leave no trace. Quick, easy, done. 

 

But he'd left that far behind. 

 

“You seem like the most important,” Keith shrugs, then swallows when Leo still stands strong with a sour look on his exposed face. Begging was always something he was taught to never do. Never beg;  _ Victory, or death _ . He clenches his jaw, gripping the blade's hilt in his hand as if it might be easier to force the words out if he looks ready to kill. “ _ Please _ , just… Help us.”

 

He can see Commander Velkrok glaring down at him now, preparing to whip him into shape and ruin his body and mind for stooping so low. But Velkrok doesn't matter anymore. Velkrok is dead, gone, and Keith has fled the Empire with no chance for forgiveness or return. And Shiro… Shiro is at his side, fighting the same battles, wounded, but still alive.

 

“Go, guys. Get whatever you can find to clean these two up,” Leo says, still meeting eyes with Keith, but his look is softer than before. Not pity, but perhaps the beginning of an understanding between the two. “I'll be fine. I can handle this.”

 

“Leo!” cries Hunk, stepping into the other's line of sight. Keith could see fear in his eyes, fear, and caring. Hunk seems kind. “You can't just--!”

 

“ _ Hunk _ . I will be fine, I promise. Please,  _ go _ .” Leo reassures, and his voice is quiet, soft, and Keith wondered if this was simply their nature to be so gentle with one another. 

 

As Hunk and Pidge leave, Leo lets out a sigh, and looks down at Shiro, who Keith had tugged free from the wreckage not long before the trio had shown up. He doesn't look too bad, his helmet’s ruined, though, and he has a wound on his head that tracked blood down his face, bringing memories of caring for Shiro after gladiator fights to the forefront of his mind. Red on tan skin, the smell of iron and sweat, the sound of Shiro telling him  _ he's alright, stop worrying. _

 

Keith’s jaw clenches.

 

***

 

_ “I'm fine, Keith- Really, I'm okay. It doesn't hurt.” Shiro hummed, head leaned back against his chair as Keith dabbed away at the fresh wound slicing into the bridge of his nose.  _

 

_ “Pain isn't the problem. Infection means we jeopardize the mission,” Keith said, as if that was what he was worried about. As if that was what Keith feared the most, despite his tone being gentler than his fingers.  _

 

_ Shiro's lips quirked up at that, twitching with mirth as a huff fell from his nose. He hummed, eyes opening to look up at Keith. The tattooed marking against his cheek, curled up over his right eye, was now split in half by a small cut high on his cheekbone. Keith dabbed at it softly. It seemed metaphorical, in a way, to split his false markings as Galra and ruin them.  _

 

_ Words weren't necessary as their eyes met, soft, and warm like the bed they often shared for the night. Words never mattered between Shiro and Keith, because they spoke with a language all their own. _

 

***

 

“I can heal him,” Leo says, grabbing Keith's attention and stepping forward once with his hands up. “I can heal him if you want me to.”

 

Suspicion bubbles in Keith's chest. “What?”

 

“I can heal him. His head looks pretty bad… I can help,” Leo repeats, meeting Keith's eyes. “I'm not like the others here. I have magic; I can heal your friend and protect his brain from injury, I just need to be able to touch him.”

 

Keith chews on his lip, feeling the sharper points of his canines dig into the pink flesh until he finally inclines his head in approval. He raises his sword and jabs it at Leo pointedly. “You hurt him, I make you wish you hadn’t.”

 

Leo nods, stepping forward slowly, hesitantly until he’s completely focused on Shiro’s body. He crouches down next to him, hands hovering over him. Keith watched with sharp eyes, and a sharper blade, ready to strike if he must. 

 

“Shiro? I’m going to help you… It might feel strange, or even hurt a bit, but just bare with me, buddy,” Leo calls, voice loud enough for Shiro to hear if he somehow might, but Keith is sure he’s completely unconscious. Leo glances up to Keith with a strange look, then continues, “And don’t let your friend kill me. That would really suck.”

 

Keith grits his teeth, grinds them together to aid him in holding his tongue. if he could make sure Shiro wasn't in pain, then, Keith would clench his jaw and stay quiet because he will do  _ anything _ for Shiro. 

 

He's already left everything he’d ever known. This is nothing in comparison. 

 

Keith galres as Leo’s eyes fall closed, hands hovering over Shiro's body for a long moment. With half of his face obscured, it’s hard to tell exactly what he is thinking. But, the man stands and moves to settle at Shiro's head, crouching again and placing his fingers against Shiro's temples. Keith wonders if there is a way to replace his helmet, which lays shattered and sparking near the wreckage. 

 

“Okay, okay… This is the hard part… We just gotta…” Leo mumbles to himself, thumbs pressing into Shiro's forehead with a gentleness that eases Keith's nerves. It seems like forever until Leo's fingers begin to glow, a soft golden and blue swirl spiralling forth around Shiro's head, becoming a crown of light. His expression pinches for a long second, then relaxes, and Keith finally looks up to see the glowing markings across Leo's cheeks-- and everything about him is changed.

 

Suddenly, it clicks into place. 

 

Lance Esperaan, looking not even slightly different than he had in the single photo the Empire had acquired doboshes ago. Brown, messy hair, tan skin, blue eyes and markings that on his cheeks. Keith's heart stutters in his chest faintly, partly because he's frighteningly attractive, and also because this is perfect. This is his out, his freedom--  _ their _ freedom from their lives as Galran operatives. 

 

“Your… friend will be fine,” says Lance, looking up at Keith with a nervous glance. “He's just resting, now, and I've put him into a deep sleep to help him heal.”

 

“Thank you,” Keith nods curtly, pauses for a long moment, then continues. “The Galra are after you. It’s stupid that you would reveal your appearance or abilities to an Empire marked ship and soldiers.”

 

“Yeah, well…” Lance’s brows pinch. “Wait, are you not going to try to take me?”

 

“No,” Keith shakes his head. “Shiro and I both fled the Empire. They will be after us, too, before long. Which is why we're going to find the Five. We must expose the wrongdoings of Red and Blue, and give the proof of Zarkon's involvement in the death of Black.”

 

Lance hums aloud, seeming dubious at Keith’s explanation. He shifts back from Shiro, the glow dimming steadily, though his body stays the same. No more blonde hair, and no more green eyes. Keith watches as Lance stands and brushes his legs off with a heavy sigh, then meets Keith's eyes once again. 

 

“I can't trust the Galra, you two included,” Lance says. “I never can after the war…”

 

“I understand,” Keith nods. He wouldn't trust the people that ruined his home either. “But you are our only hope. If you can replace, possibly, the Red or Blue Lion, maybe even Black… We could eradicate the corruption of Galran forces. I have a contact I need to meet soon, but no ship. Is there anything on this planet that could get us to where we need to go?”

 

Lance's brows knit together, suspicious. But there's something stopping him from outright fighting Keith. “Yes, I have transportation. You must heal, though. And your friend may not wake until two day cycles.” 

 

Keith’s eyes find Shiro's face, much more peaceful than before. Relief surges through him at knowing that Shiro no longer felt pain in his rest. Still, they need to get out of this desert before nightfall. “Might we stay for a few days? It will take my people time.”

 

Lance nods, seeming hesitant, but Keith guesses that the legends of Alteans being generous and compassionate are more true than he's ever realized. Instinctively, he thought of it as a weakness, but he knows that the Alteans never once bent to the will of the Empire. He knows the man before him is stronger than any other creature on this planet. 

 

Keith glances around the desert area, sand and small-looking buildings upon the horizon mixed with the tops and pillars of canyon rock. There isn’t exactly a place to set up a good camp, and Shiro needs somewhere comfortable to rest… 

 

“I know somewhere you can stay,” Lance shrugs. He tosses his gaze around with a visible sigh, chest expanding on a heavy breath, then exhaling as he reaches up to run a hand through his hair. “There's a house-- a shack, really, but it's not that bad. It'll work until I can gain access to my ship and find a spot that the Garrison won't see.”

 

“Just as long as he can heal,” Keith nods, firm, then moves off to the wreckage. No flames, thankfully, but the cockpit is completely caved in. Their packs were safe from harm, since he’d pulled them from the ship alongside Shiro. If this is their only choice, it’s better than sitting out in the heat and dehydrating. Keith frowns as he turns and stops in front of Shiro's helmet, picking it up and pressing the outside of the holographic visor, the sparks ceasing as it shuts down. 

 

“My friends will come back, then we can go there? I know there's no trust here, but… I want to help,” Lance says, voice softer, and Keith feels the sincerity of the words. It isn't easy, letting himself feel and trust and believe, and most of it, he is surely forcing. But, Lance seems honest, and he's right, there is no trust. There are also no other options. 

 

“Okay.”

 

***

 

“We were trying to find you,” Keith says, glancing over to Lance, sitting across from him on a rickety chair while Keith sits on the beat up couch with his back against the arm. Shiro's head lays right in front of his criss-crossed legs, sleeping soundly and looking worse for wear, but peaceful. Hunk and Pidge are examining Keith's helmet, which he’d finally removed with some convincing. It’s only fair, they said, since the three had removed their bandanas.

 

“Me?” Lance asks. “I know you says the Empire was after me, but…”

 

“We used the mission and its resources to defect. The Empire, it doesn't… take kindly to caring for anything other than Zarkon himself.” Keith explains, a frown tugging at his features. “And since Shiro is human, and I'm partially human, they would have killed us outright. Not that being of Galra blood would have changed that.”

 

“Wait-- he's completely human?” Lance questions, eyes a little wider than before. “Was he always with the Galra?”

 

“Yes. He comes from the species, but we… never found out if he was once here,” Keith sighs, fingers itching to run through Shiro's hair and tangle in the longer strands of pure white at the front. He ignores the urge with a twitch of his fingers and shifting to cross his arms over his chest. “I met him after he'd been marked.”

 

“You mean the facial things?” Hunk pipes up, moving over closer to join in the conversation. Keith likes him, he decides. Trustworthy, and kind. He nods with a soft breath, brows pinching. The markings were never enjoyable to think about.

 

“The Galra will tattoo soldiers that aren't of blood,” Keith says. “The positioning is meant to look unnatural. It's a reminder so that he would never truly understand being Galra. He would never be one of us.”

 

“The Galra sound like assholes,” Pidge butts in, and Keith meets her eyes with a slight glare, rising to defend, but there simply isn't a defense that isn't fuelled by conditioning. Keith knows it, too, and sags against the couch. “Do you even get a choice in  _ anything _ ?”

 

“Yes,” Keith nods. “Victory; or Death. In the Empire, that is your only choice.”

 

“I see why you left,” Lance says, and Keith sees the intense sour expression pinching his features. “It sounds like slavery.”

 

“When you know nothing else…” Keith trails off and shrugs. It wasn't good, but Keith has nothing to compare it to, truly. It wasn't bad, either, on good days. He had luxuries not many others had, and that was good enough for him and Shiro. His eyes find the white of his hair again, and he frowns as he traces Shiro's scar with his eyes. “I just can't allow Zarkon to bring ruin any longer.”

 

There’s a lapse in conversation, then. A few sighs leave the others, but Keith's eyes stay focused on Shiro's resting form. He looks okay, as if he is simply sleeping as any other day, except Keith knows he'll wake sore and disoriented. With a slow breath, Keith’s eyes trail over the deep scrapes along the chest of Shiro's armor, remembering the sound that it made as the protective shield shattered and the lightweight metal bent and broke.

 

His heart begins to race.

 

***

 

_ “Keith-- We have to get out of here!” Shiro cried, standing head to head, arm glowing and body tense as he stared down the hostile creature. Large and horned with ferocious looking teeth dripping green sludge. Keith needed to be faster than it if he was going to get Shiro out of there in time. “Hurry!” _

 

_ “Trying!” Keith shouted through the comms, tapping at his control panel only to be met with yet another ‘No Access’ sign. “Come on, come on…” _

 

_ “Keith!” Shiro yelled once again, and Keith looks up just in time to see the creature barrel forward and toss his head into Shiro, who dodged left just fast enough to only be clipped with its horns. That didn't stop the teeth, though, which came clamping down over Shiro's chest. The magenta, transparent shield that surrounded Shiro cracked and burst like glass, giving way for its teeth to dig into the armor. _

 

_ “SHIRO!” Keith screamed, watching as the creature threw him off to the side, his limp body colliding with the rocky cliffside. His heart was pounding, but despite his fear, he jumped into action, continuing to bypass the lockdown on the ship. The creature was advancing, steadily, but Keith worked faster, getting the ship up off the ground and quickly dealing with the hostile wildlife.  _

 

_ All he cared about was Shiro, and it wasn't long before Keith was having him into the ships hull with shaking hands. _

 

***

 

“There was a creature. An animal. The planet you were on previously had a ship detection system in place, and it alerted a lot of the wildlife,” Keith mutters, hand reaching out to touch the new, small scar right next to Shiro's hairline. “I couldn't stop whatever it was from hurting him.”

 

“It wasn't your fault,” tries Lance, and Keith glances up to met blue eyes. Despite the obvious tension between them, Lance still attempts to comfort. Keith's lips twitch at the kindness. 

 

“I know,” He replies, taking a deep breath in and sliding from the couch carefully. Shiro doesn’t react. “I need to contact someone. Is there any reason that I shouldn't?”

 

“Uh… The Garrison can detect outgoing and incoming signals that aren't encrypted. Can I see your thing?” Pidge informs, stepping up and holding her hand out without a moment of hesitation. Keith feels a small grin pull at him, reaching into the small pocket on the lower half of his armor and pulling out his datapad, placing it in her palm. She takes it, looking at the entirety of it and flipping it around in her hand carefully, intrigued and focused. She reaches into her pocket and pulls out some sort of device, turning and crouching to place them both on the floor.

 

Keith watches as she flips through her own information, then begins to mess with his for a long moment. He’s shocked by how quickly she adapts to the new item, navigating it with precise movements until she finally shut it down, then turns it back on. She then smiles and held it out to Keith from where she sits on the floor.

 

“There! That should protect you, and anyone you contact… Just don't get too close to the Garrison’s outposts, or they'll pick up the blips in comms frequencies.” Pidge explains, and Keith nods in response. He takes the datapad, eyes catching the small logo in the top right corner, and frowns. 

 

“Is that…  Is that you?” He asks, glancing up to Pidge, who grins devilishly and nods. Keith smirks at the cheeky look, and heaves a sigh. “Uhm. Thanks. I'm gonna go out here for minute.”

 

“Oh-- Hey, wait!” Lance calls, standing from his chair and tugging his jacket off. He hurries over with it in hand, then holds it out to Keith with an odd expression. “Uh, take this. It's… cold out there at night.”

 

Keith looks down, the green jacket with a soft grey material lining the inside being offered looks warm. He reaches out and takes it, laying it over his shoulders without pushing his arms through, and holding it closed at the front. It smells like Lance and desert sand. Keith nods in appreciation, feeling his cheeks grow warmer than before. 

 

“Thanks.”

  
  


***

 

Three  _ quintants _ \-- ‘days’, Pidge calls them-- have passed since Keith had been unable to stop the fighter from crashing into the Earth's surface. Shiro had woken from his rest the morning after the wreck, confused, but alert. In a  _ movement _ , Keith is meant to meet his mother right past the edge of the solar system, and he couldn't be happier that Shiro would have the opportunity to meet her, as well. Once they could leave Earth, not even permanently, perhaps, it would be a long trip to the hidden headquarters for the Five. Simple, in many ways. 

 

Complicated in many more.

 

Lance has been vocal in his wish to stay on Earth, as well. To be with his friends, on the planet he'd grown to call home. Keith understands, and thinks about forcing Lance… That isn't an option anymore, and Keith accepts Lance's wish. The proof he's gathered will be plenty.

 

But, now Lance stands in front of him, shifting from side to side, and Keith feels a moment of shock run through him. 

 

“Can I?” He asks, and Keith licks his lips. “I've… reconsidered. I think if I came with you two, it might… I might be able to protect the universe how I was supposed to all those years ago, y'know?”

 

“I thought that you didn't trust us,” Keith frowns. “And you wanted to be with Hunk and Pidge.”

 

“Well… yeah, but you guys don't seem too bad anymore. And you said that I could help,” Lance shrugs, but Keith can see through the fake nonchalance. “Your contact, she's with the Blade of Marmora, right? I've heard about them before, how they've fought against the Empire. I want to be a part of that.”

 

“Why?” Keith asks, partly curious, and in some ways, confused as to why Lance has a change of heart. His eyes glance off to the side for a moment, catching Shiro's sleeping figure across the room. Then, he notices the glint of his eyes, and felt warmth bloom in his chest. Not asleep any longer, listening close. Keith moves to the side, letting Lance walk into the small living area. Lance settles into the couch with a soft sigh. The room is dim, only a small flame lantern on the table in front of Lance, but it’s enough to show the grim look on Lance's usually bright features. 

 

“The Galra, they… They destroyed my home, Keith. I  _ have _ to protect others. You says that you couldn't let Zarkon bring ruin any longer,” Lance says, voice firm, but quiet as to not bother the ‘sleeping’ man in the room. Keith might think the consideration for Shiro was sweet, had he not been watching the way Lance's face gives off waves of visible pain and sadness, stabbing straight through his core. “Neither can I.”

 

“Then, come with us,” Shiro chimes in, and Keith peers over and sees that he's sat up in bed, his blanket tightly wrapped around his bare shoulders. He stands from the mattress on the rickety floor, and walks over. “If you want to fight, we won't stop you.”

 

“Right,” Keith nods, taking in the tired haze still in Shiro's eyes, and the mess of his hair atop his head, the forelock tangled from his sleep. Keith can only describe him as gorgeous. When his gaze moves back to Lance, Keith swallows. There’s a heat there in Lance's eyes that Keith recognizes, a special kind of look that one only got when they saw something they wouldn't mind sinking their teeth into. He wonders for a moment if Lance sees Shiro the way Keith sees him. 

 

Of course, he doesn’t.

 

“That's, uhm… Yeah. I want to fight for what's right. I don't want others meeting the fate Altea did,” Lance nods, and his eyes meet Keith's. Redness fills tan cheeks, and Keith has to stifle a smirk at his embarrassment of getting caught staring at Shiro. “We can take my ship to meet your contact, just as planned. Either I can travel in it alongside you, or we can all travel in one.”

 

“Why would you need to travel in a separate ship?” Shiro asks, and Keith appreciates the twitch of his brows, confused and unsure. “There's surely no need…”

 

“Well-- Uh, you guys're… Uhm…” Lance struggles, gesturing vaguely between Keith and Shiro. Keith snickers, the redness from the tips of Lance's pointed ears reaches down to his neck, causing the two small markings on his cheeks to give off a faint glow. The color catches his gaze, noting that it matches the blue of Lance's eyes almost perfectly. “I just figured you guys would want, er,  _ privacy _ .”

 

“ _ Oh _ ,” Shiro mutters, and Keith could have snorted at the sight of them both coming into the heat of embarrassment. “That's not-- No, that's not an issue. You don't need to be in a separate ship just so we can--...  _ No _ . It's uh, fine, Lance.”

 

Lance doesn't respond with much more than a nod, fingers fiddling at the zipper of his jacket. Keith stares at the grey material inside and remembers how warm it was when Lance had offered it to him. Lance's kindness is frighteningly pure at times, and Keith's heart skips at the memory of standing in the chilly desert with Lance's coat wrapped tight around him. The earnest gaze and genuine worry flooding through blue eyes with redness in his cheeks and a hesitant grin tugging at soft lips… 

 

Lance stands, pulling Keith from his thoughts, huddling his jacket around himself with a small smile. “Okay. Uhm… Well, then, I guess we can discuss it more tomorrow.”

 

“Yes. Goodnight, Lance.” Shiro smiles, and Keith waves a hand silently in farewell, then the Altean is out the door.

 

***

 

“You'll call, right?” Pidge asks, worrying her palm with the pad of her thumb and gnawing at her lip. “You better call, you freaky alien.”

 

Lance chuckles and tugs her in for a hug. Keith gives a half-smile at the sight. “‘Course I'll call! And I'll visit, too!”

 

A hand settles on Keith's shoulder, and he turns his head to see Hunk's smiling face. “Take care of him, alright? He puts on a cool face and all, but…”

 

“Alteans are extremely well-trained. He can take care of himself,” Keith says, confident in his answer because it is true. From a young age, Alteans with and without magic were trained for combat, that much he knows. Lance can handle anything thrown his way.

 

“That's not what I meant,” Hunk shakes his head, dropping his hand from Keith's shoulder and scratching at the back of his head. “He’s scared. He's seen the Empire ruin his home, and yeah, sure, he wants to fight that, but that doesn't mean he isn't afraid of facing them. Just keep an eye on him. Please.”

 

Keith swallows and nods. “Yeah. You got it.”

 

“Lance! Keith! Time to go!” Shiro calls from the ship, and Keith takes in a deep breath, and lets it out slowly. If Lance is scared, Keith is terrified. 

 

He's never met his mother face-to-face, only through voice communication and video calls, and in a few  _ vargas _ , he'll be standing right in front of her and the rest of the Blades. Keith supposes that if this war gets him anything, it’s a connection to his family. Being told that they were all dead for the entirety of his life, well, the shock when he'd learned of his mother's expulsion from the Empire had been unimaginable. He still remembers the way Shoro warily touched his shoulder, the hesitant call of his name full of concern… 

 

“ _ Keith _ !” Shiro hollers, exasperated. “Come on. We need to go.  _ Now _ .”

 

“Right,” Keith muttered. “Bye, Hunk. Pidge.”

 

“Bye!”

 

***

 

Keith's heart hammers in his chest as he docks the Altean pod into the Blades’ cruiser, landing it carefully and precisely, telling himself he isn't trying so hard to fly clean because he wants to impress his mother and Lance. Flying; that's what he’s good at. He’s just skilled and executing a gentle landing, not anything else, obviously. 

 

Of course, it’s a big fat lie, because he recognizes the appreciative and proud expression on Krolia's face as soon as he steps out of the craft. Lance mutters something vaguely praising, which set him up for a smug smirk that he can't hide.

 

“Keith,” Krolia hums, a fond lilt pulling at her usual monotone voice. “Well done.”

 

“Thanks,” He replies, and then kicks himself for finding ways to get his own ego stroked. Krolia glances around him, and he quickly pulls himself from his thoughts. “Oh, right. Uhm, mom, so this is Shiro, and this is Lance. Lance, Shiro, this is Krolia, my mom.”

 

“Hello. This meeting has been a long time coming,” Shiro smiles, stepping forward and offering his human hand. Keith might have winced if he didn't think Shiro would notice.

 

“Yes, it has. Keith talks of you quite a lot, and as of late, Lance, as well,” She smiles softly, and then her eyes meet Keith's with a warmth and knowing stare that makes his cheeks feel warmer than before. She turns to Shiro completely, takes in a full breath before giving a firm nod. “Thank you for staying at his side within, and without the Empire.”

 

Shiro’s eyes widen slightly. “Of-Of course. He’d do the same.”

 

She nods again, then turns towards the Blades at her back. “Come on, then. We have a lot of work to do before morning.”

 

***

 

It’s within the next two days that they left the Marmora cruiser in their own ship. A much better shuttle provided, larger with separate quarters for all three of them despite the unspoken fact of Keith and Shiro sharing a room. Lance takes the room farthest from them, no doubt trying to avoid imposing on their privacy without having to endure the embarrassment of voicing it. It’s a nice ship with easy flying, and the most recent tech. Keith is pleased with it, at least. 

 

Barely reaching a week’s time, Keith begins to struggle to find easy sleep. It had been better, the first few nights having been smooth, the next couple a struggle, and tonight, with Shiro sound asleep next to him, he cannot sleep at all. His mind replays every moment of the day on a repeating record of events. 

 

Lance laughing at something Shiro says, bumping shoulders into Keith with a warm grin. Growing warmth on Keith’s cheeks as he nods, setting the ship into autopilot as he searches for an excuse to get away. Keith loves Shiro. Why is it so hard to ignore what his heart does when Lance is around?

 

The moments of rest he does achieve are full with dreams that leave him shaken and unsure.

 

“Keith?” Shiro mutters, shifting carefully in the small bed, hand sliding over Keith’s stomach up to his chest. Keith watches his face, seeing grey eyes crack open slowly and feeling the warmth there. Shiro is so beautiful. “Can’t sleep?”

 

“No,” Keith sighs. “Not at all.”

 

“Any reason?” Shiro asks, making Keith swallow hard enough to hurt. 

 

“Not…” Keith starts, then rethinks with an inhale. “Not really, I just… Can't stop thinking.”

 

Shiro's silence is good. It's comforting, and right, and unintrusive, simply waiting for Keith's words to continue. Which is exactly what he needed, because Keith is sure if Shiro interrupts him, he'll never try to say anything again. 

 

“What do you think about Lance?” Keith asks, voice quiet and vulnerable in a way that he hates to hear come from his own mouth. Shiro looks at him for a moment, blinks a few times, then moves to sit up on one elbow. His expression forces Keith to meet his eyes, which are watching him with an intensity that leaves his heart pounding in his chest. Shiro takes in a breath, lets it out on a sigh and licks his lips.

 

“How do you mean?” He asks finally, and Keith’s teeth grind for a moment. He swallows hard, looking away for a moment. He rolls onto his side to face Shiro properly, feeling the warmth emanating from Shiro’s body that he loves to curl into when he feels so frighteningly insecure. Right now, though, he needs to get this out. He needs to  _ talk _ .

 

“Just… in general? I guess? I don’t know, he’s…  _ different _ . I trust your character judgment,” Keith shrugs casually, and when he looks up to see Shiro’s face, the blatant  _ I’m not buying it _ makes him huff in exasperation. “I really don’t know, I just think he’s interesting,” Keith mutters, tossing his shoulder in a shrug, before tacking on, “Alteans are interesting.”

 

Shiro nods, taking in a breath. “Well… You’re right. He’s interesting. I think he’s trustworthy, and genuine. He’s becoming more trusting in us, as well, especially now that he’s seen the active warrants for our arrest and return to the Empire. He’s very kind, and he has the looks you would expect from an Altean prince.”

 

Keith lets the words rest for a moment, eyes having decided to lock on the center of Shiro’s chest and not move as he mulls over what’s been says. How will Shiro react if he is honest? What would happen? Is Keith’s inability to be singularly faithful as bad as it feels?

 

He gulps. 

 

There’s a hand on his shoulder, sliding up to his cheek. “Hey,”

 

Keith looks up, and Shiro’s smiling softly down at him, making his heart hammer in his chest. Keith loves Shiro, that isn’t a question. “It’s alright, Keith. Whatever it is.”

 

“Is it?” Keith breathes before he can stop it, and his jaw slams shut around the bitter taste in his mouth. The nights of momentary rest filled to the brim with skin on skin, and gentle touches, teeth digging into shoulders, hands in hair. It feels  _ wrong _ . 

 

“Yes, of course,” Shiro insists. His thumb brushes the marks on Keith’s cheeks, and Keith leans into the wonderfully warm touch and allows his eyes to fall closed. What if his honesty means he may never feel this heat again? “ _ Keith _ …”

 

Keith’s eyes open, the sound of Shiro’s voice shaky and filled with enough fondness that it might spill over. He gulps, meeting steel eyes that make him grow still as stone. His heart pounds once, twice, a third time. 

 

“Do you truly believe that there is anything you could say or do that would make me love you less?”

 

Keith doesn’t feel whether if it is him, or Shiro, who leans in, but all he knows is that their lips are pressed together, and it is perfect, and the momentary thought of Lance pressing close and holding them both. It’s fleeting, and frightening, and Keith’s hands are buried in Shiro’s loose shirt, pulling his as close as he possibly can in this one moment because Shiro is  _ right _ . 

 

Shiro is right, and Keith tells him so. He tells him that no, he doesn’t believe that. No, he isn’t going to lose him. And that, “Shiro, I think I’m into Lance.”

 

Shiro’s eyes widen for the briefest of moments, then the surprise melts into warmth. It’s good. “Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”

 

***

 

It’s two day cycles that things really start to change.

 

Keith can’t sleep, which is no different from a few days before. Except now, it isn't because of guilt or fear. It's because there's a loud, annoying,  _ infuriating _ crashing coming from Lance's quarters. A sharp hissing curse, a loud  _ thud _ , and Keith's fangs are going to be flat if he keeps grinding his teeth like this. 

 

He stops himself from yanking the blankets back, calmly getting out of bed and making sure Shiro is still asleep before exiting the shared room. It cold in the ship, and Keith's hypersensitive skin isn't very happy about the temperature change. Goosebumps rise on his skin as he marches toward Lance's room and give three  _ firm _ knocks. 

 

They're more like he's punching the door, but it works, because Lance is standing before the entrance. He's disheveled in appearance, a mess with hair sticking every which way. There's heavy dark circles under his eyes, which are puffy and red. He sniffs. “Uh-... Sorry. Did I wake you?”

 

Keith's angry lecture dies on his tongue as he hears the exhausted tone of Lance's voice. “Everything alright?”

 

Lance glances away and wipes at his nose with his hand. “Fine.”

 

Keith looks over Lance's shoulder, seeing the packed bag open with clothes scattered across the floor, bed sheets tossed around and pillows on the wrong end of the bed. He raises his brow and inclines his head slightly. “...Sure.”

 

Lance winces. “Sorry. I'll keep it down.” He turns and the door begins to shut, but Keith reaches a hand out to stop it, looking at Lance's tense back. 

 

“Hey- Seriously. Is everything alright?” Keith asks, softer this time, as much so as he can manage. A tightness pulls at his chest, tugging him forward, but his feet feel like they're encased in the shuttle's floor. Lance stops and turns, brows pinched as he looks off to the side. He's avoiding Keith's eyes, avoiding  _ Keith _ , in a way. 

 

“I-... I guess. I'm just… Exhausted,” Lance shakes his head, frowning hard. “I can't sleep.”

 

Keith nods. “I know the feeling.”

 

Lance looks up then, scanning Keith's face to the point that he feels like he's being analyzed. He shifts his weight, arms moving up to cross over his chest as he meets Lance's eyes through the hair in his face. “I can tell.”

 

Keith shrugs at that. “We could do something? Laying in bed and throwing things isn't going to get either of us anywhere.”

 

Lance visibly hesitates, and for a moment, Keith is sure he’s going to decline and go back to whatever it is he was doing. Lance says, “Yeah. Okay. We could- Well, we could go to the little lounge area? I have a couple games on my datapad that we can play. If you want to.”

 

Keith gives a half smile. “Yeah, alright.”

 

***

 

“What!?” Lance cries as the hologram fades to black and shuts down. “You won again!?”

 

Keith shrugs. It wasn’t that difficult when all Lance did was mash the buttons. “I just focused on what I was doing.”

 

Lance looks at him like he’s actually insane, mouth agape and eyes wide with awe and disbelief. Keith’s heart stutters in his chest, and he begs every star in the universe to help him not lose his mind. He shrugs again and makes a vague “ _ eugh? _ ” sound in his throat that sounds more Galran than anything.

 

“Man,” Lance shakes his head and huffs out a laugh, falling back onto the ship’s floor in a splayed out position. “Wish it were so effortless for me!”

 

Keith chuckles. “It’s not  _ effortless _ .”

 

“Sure it is!” Lance retorts. “Do you even see yourself when you play? No. You look  _ totally  _ casual, like it’s nothing.”

 

“That’s my focused face!” Keith laughs properly, falling back alongside Lance with a pitiful realization that this is what falling for someone should feel like. This is what laughter and joy and goodness should feel like. He and Shiro were so deprived of their growing love, simply because the Empire- because  _ Zarkon _ \- can’t let the smallest shred of power fall from his gasp. Keith’s giddiness turns sour at the thought, and he swallows around the thick lump in his throat.

 

“Keith? Hey, man, you alright?” Lance asks, and Keith notes that there’s a warmth resting on his wrist now. He shifts and looks down, seeing Lance’s tan hand and long fingers wrapped around him. The corner of his lips quirk up.

 

“Yeah, I’m alright. Just… Thinking about things that are soon to be behind me.” Keith looks up, and Lance looks like he wants to pry. Like he wants to ask questions he feels he shouldn’t, and Keith appreciates the hesitation and respect that Lance is giving him. He thinks of Lance’s past, of Altea being torn apart continent by continent, the way the Empire flaunts the gruesome acts as if they’re something akin to an  _ achievement _ . The dark circles beneath Lance’s eyes, the previous puffiness that has gone. Keith feels his heart break in sympathy. 

 

Lance must have gathered courage while Keith was lost in thought, because he finally asks, “Like what?”

 

Keith inhales softly, then lets it out fast in a sigh. Lance’s hand hasn’t moved from where it lays on Keith’s arm. “I was just thinking that me and Shiro both missed out on a lot of things… For a long time, I-... I wasn’t really honest with him. He was a astonishing fighter, I admired him, loved him, but I didn’t want to admit that I wasn’t truly a loyal Galra.”

 

“Love makes you disloyal?” Lance asks softly, eyes dropping to look at how his hand rests against Keith’s wrist, and Keith’s heart is pounding in his chest. Something has changed, something is different about how Lance says it. It’s frightening and exhilarating all at once. 

 

“Yes,” Keith nods. “Zarkon knows that if someone loves something more than him and the Empire, they might start to realize that what he does, his use of quintessence, is wrong.”

 

“And you love Shiro that much?” Lance asks, a bitter note on his tone and Keith frowns. Swallows hard because the answer hurts with the raw truth of it all.

 

“More than anything.”

 

Lance nods, and is silent for a time. He doesn’t meet Keith’s eyes again. “Do the Galra have a word for love?”

 

Keith is surprised by the question, but shakes his head. “No.”

 

Lance does meet his eyes then, shocked. “What? Why not?”

 

“I’m not sure,” Keith mutters. “My mother told me it is because the Galra have never been able to describe it. It isn’t just…  _ love _ . If you told me right now that I needed to die in order to save Shiro’s life, I would do it gladly. There are a few select people I feel that way about, except, familial love has a word in the ancient tongue. I don’t know it, though.”

 

“Strange…” Lance responds, pulling his hand from Keith’s wrist to put his arms behind his head, pillowing it. “On Altea, we called it  _ veltae _ . It essentially means ‘ _ the ones which you cannot let go _ ’.”

 

“That’s… a good way to describe it.” Keith nods. He misses the warmth of Lance’s hand, but doesn’t let it show. “I’ve heard stories of Altea, thought most of them are banned in the Empire. What was love like on Altea?”

 

Keith wants to kick himself for asking, but it’s honest. He’s curious, and Lance seems open enough. And the last thing Keith wants is to leave his side right now. 

 

“Well, it was considered to be a great honor to be in love, in a way? It created some bad situations, but most of the time, it was a really good thing,” Lance sighs, reminiscent in tone and Keith watches his profile as he speaks. Sharp nose, his eyes shut softly and his lips just on the right side of plump. He’s breathtaking. “Some people had three partners, some had one. Some people thought multiple partners was wrong, in a way. says it devalued the love for the first person… But I never understood that? Sometimes there’s so much love in one’s heart that they can’t give it all to one person. Some things just…  _ fit _ .”

 

Keith watches Lance as he chuckles the moves his arms up, out from under his head and stretch hard with a yawm. He must be getting tired, but all Keith can think about is how what Lance says might have been exactly what he needed to hear. 

 

“Lance?” Keith asks, softly, and his heart hammers in his chest. Is he really doing this? Lance turns his head and looks at Keith. Keith gulps, and steels himself. “Lance, I like you. A lot.”

 

Lance’s eyes widen for a moment, redness bright on his cheeks and the small markings begin to glow. He licks his lips, and it takes too much for Keith to not watch. “Okay.”

 

“Okay?” Keith asks, because somehow, he must have misheard. Lance nods, and Keith is too far gone to fight the smile from his face. 

  
The words Lance spoke ring truest now. _ “Some things just… fit.” _


	2. Shiro

Shiro is a man of rigid structure and routine. Or, he was, before he left the Empire. In any ways, he still is, but it’s less because he must be, and more because it is all he has ever known. It’s all he remembers, at least. With each moment of sleep, he regains new memories. Vaguely, he knows that there’s an illness he once had cured by his prosthetic. That his mother and father died when he was young, and was raised by an older man he assumes to be either his uncle or grandfather. A lost love that was important, but he knew was doomed. 

 

Shiro is happy to learn of his lost life, the one he was forced to not care for within Galra ranks because otherwise… Well, who knew what they may have done to him for wanting to leave, or to know what he used to be. It’s bittersweet, learning of everything he’s forgotten, but in a way he never wants to let go of. 

 

He watches as his prosthetic opens and closes, leather palm the simulates flesh crinkling as he forms a tight fist. Shiro sighs, long and heavy as he sits, observing the viewscreen in front of him, filled with only the boring nothingness of space, perhaps maybe a single star in the distance. The one memory of looking up at the stars from Earth was one of the best, because he could still feel the raw and true wonder that filled him in that moment. The mystery, the excitement, the desire to be among them. It was so carefree, in a way. In comparison to this life, to the constant fear and peril, it seemed so simple, being human. 

 

“Shiro?” A familiar voice asks from behind, and Shiro turns to greet him. Lance is smiling, obviously having just woken. Keith would surely try to sleep for as long as his mind might let him. “What are you doing awake so early? The day cycle’s just started.”

 

Shiro hums with a small smile and turns back to the viewscreen. “Enjoying what  _ seems  _ to be the endless void.”

 

Lance laughs softly at that, and Shiro feels a special warmth bud in his chest. One that he let fall freely into his stomach and spread into his limbs, because he  _ could _ . Keith was a never ending stream of surprises, and it felt good to know that he wasn’t alone in finding Lance to be a bit on the irresistibly adorable side. Lance quietly steps over and sits on the piloting chair’s armrest next to Shiro. “It’s very… Void-y.”

 

Shiro laughs and nods. “Yes. Yes, it is.”

 

They fall into a comfortable silence, the ship steadily advancing, thought it’s hard to tell by the viewscreen. Shiro can tell that Lance has something to say, and shifts to lean against the opposite armrest so that if he decides to say it, he can see him better. It takes awhile. Lance sighs at least twice, but Shiro doesn’t press, or show anything other than patience, and it must work, because Lance breaks the silence first. 

 

“I kissed Keith. And he says that you guys talked about it. Or something. And that I can kiss him again if I want to,” He huffs, and Shiro’s brows raise. That wasn’t what he’d expected. “Is that true?”

 

“Well, yes. He wouldn’t lie to you, Lance,” Shiro reassures, and though it’s muted in his chest, there’s a pang of jealousy. Envy, maybe, but it’s pointless. Shiro wishes he could kiss Lance. “I want him to be happy, and I would like to see you happy, as well.”

 

Lance looks surprised by that, turning his head to gaze down at Shiro. “You do?”

 

“Of course,” Shiro says. “Why wouldn’t I?”

 

“Well, there’s-... I don’t know! It’s just… weird. I guess. I don’t like the thought of you two loving each other and then… me just getting in the middle of it all? I feel like… like I’m doing something wrong by wanting…” Lance trails off and goes red, looking away towards the viewscreen. The purple light cast from the control panel catches beautifully on his eyes.

 

“By wanting Keith?” Shiro asks, softer, watching Lance patiently as he glares out into the nothingness of space. Shiro wonders if he sees the flicker of that single star, as well. Lance shakes his head. He wants Shiro to guess again. “For  _ not _ wanting Keith?”

 

Another negative. 

 

Before Shiro can guess again, Lance cuts him off. “For wanting both of you.”

 

Shiro’s heart skips, then feels as though it might stop. “Oh.”

 

“I feel like-...” Lance swallows hard enough that Shiro can see his throat flex and struggle. “I feel like I’m asking for too much.”

 

Shiro stays silent for a moment, glancing down to see Lance’s hand resting against the thigh propped up on the armrest. The words ring painfully true in his ears, relatable and vulnerable to point that Shiro’s heart might shatter. Lance is worth both of their love and more, but… Shiro is a hardened soldier. Damaged and scarred, while both of them are frighteningly beautiful. He shakes the thoughts, and steels himself. He reaches out with his flesh hand and wraps it around Lance’s own, the warm softness of his palm making Shiro shiver. If the sharp inhale from above is any indicator, Lance is shocked by the touch. “I think we’ve been feeling the same way for a while, Lance.”

 

Shiro looks up as Lance looks down, and their eyes meet for a moment that locks Shiro into place. He’s frozen, stuck watching blue eyes watch him with an intensity that makes him feel just as warm as Keith’s touch. It’s new. It special. It’s perfect, and Lance is already so close… 

 

He extends his prosthetic hand and presses it to Lance’s cheek. The limited sensation in the false palm is enough to feel the heat in red cheeks. Shiro gives a shy smile as Lance cushions his face against it. Lance says, “Are you serious?”

 

“I would never joke about how I’ve come to feel about you,” Shiro shakes his head, and feels more than sees Lance’s free hand move to press against the highest part of his chest. “I knew that Keith kissed you, and I was happy for him. For his happiness. But I can’t shake the desire to kiss you, too.”

 

Lance’s lips quirk slightly, and Shiro’s eyes drop to watch them speak. “Then, what are you waiting for?”

 

Their lips meet and Shiro lets out a soft sound of pleasure at the contact. Keith’s lips are always, chapped. Keith’s lips devour his own. Shiro wonders if they see how similar they are, but loses the thought as Lance’s hand cups the back of his neck. The kiss deepens, and Shiro’s heart stutters as Lance’s hand leaves his and moves to lean over Shiro by supporting himself on the armrest Shiro is resting against. Shiro's hand buries in Lance's hair and tangles through the strands, gasping in a breath between kisses. “ _ Lance _ .”

 

“Shiro,” Lance responds, then repeats brokenly. “ _ Takashi _ .”

 

Shiro leans back slightly, glances up to meet Lance's hooded eyes. They're reflecting the purple lighting and the glow of his markings. Shiro's heart pounds once, twice, again before Lance lets out a breathy chuckle.

 

“You're gorgeous,” He says, and Shiro feels heat on his cheeks. “I want you.  _ Both _ of you. Please.”

 

Shiro nods, then swallows hard. “We should talk to Keith.”

 

Lance's brows hitch up slightly as he nods and leans back, away from his hovering position. “Yeah. Yeah, you're right.”

 

Shiro nods, licking his lips and tasting Lance on his lips. The fruit they'd acquired from a trading post still left a tang of sweet citrus on Lance's tongue, and Shiro can't get enough of it, but he tells himself he needs to wait. He finds his breath again after too long, swallowing hard. This isn't what he expected when he fled the Empire, when Keith told him there was hope. All he saw then was Keith at his side. 

 

But now, just maybe…? 

 

Just maybe Lance will stand at his side with Keith. 

 

***

 

“Oh,” Keith breathes, looking between Shiro and Lance with surprise. “ _ Oh _ .”

 

“Is this- Is it okay?” Lance asks with a vague gesture of his hand, and Shiro glances over just in time to see the twist of anxiety in his brow, with the downturn of nervous lips. Keith scoffs, and Shiro knows the sound well. As if Lance asks a stupid question, and relief floods his chest. 

 

“Why wouldn't it be?” He smiles, and Shiro feels a shot of electricity at the sheer brightness of it. Keith's smile is beautiful, and Shiro wants to see it forever. Keith leans against the end of his bed, arms going back to rest against the footboard as he watches Shiro and Lance with a delighted expression. He’s so open, Shiro thinks. So open, so vulnerable, and it makes Shiro's heart pound with the thrill of knowing that Keith  _ trusts _ them enough to let his guard down. “Why wouldn't I want you both to be happy?”

 

Lance shifts, Shiro looks over and sees him swallow. “I don't know, I-... I just want  _ you _ to be happy. Both of you.”

 

Shiro looks to Keith and sees his eyes have gone wide. His throat bobs as if he’s trying to speak, the words failing to form in his throat. He’d never been good with sentimentality, and though he’s open, words weren’t his strong suit. Keith used action, but right now, he looks frozen on the spot.

 

“Lance, I think I speak for both of us when I say that me and Keith think of it as an honor to have you with us,” Shiro says. “We’ve both come to enjoy your company, and we want you company to become more of a constant. We’re happy with that, and anything you would be willing to give us.”

 

Lance smiles at that with red cheeks and glowing marks, and Shiro gives a soft grin in response. “Alright,” Lance says with a nod. “That would… That would be really good.”

 

“Yes, I think…” Shiro starts, stepping closer, reaching out and taking Lance’s hand in his own. Warm, as always, and this way, he can feel the slight build up of calluses beginning to form from their sparring practice. “I think it would.”

 

Keith suddenly pushes from the end of his bed, stepping fast across the room to pull Lance into himself. Shiro notes only seconds later that they’re kissing, and his heart skips a beat, seeing Keith’s fingers buried in brown hair and tight around the back of Lance’s jacket. Shiro always wondered if Keith looks just as intense as he felt, and now, Shiro knows he does. The tight knot in his brow, the firm, grasping hands that hold on as if he might fall is he doesn’t. He can practically feel the way Keith’s lips slide against Lance’s, the soft whimper that falls from Lance’s throat between heavy motions that are deceptively gentle. 

 

Lance’s hands squeezes around Shiro’s and pulls him closer, before breaking the kiss he’s sharing with Keith only to tug Shiro down into another. The taste of Keith and Lance mix to a flavor that Shiro is eager to experience, not hesitating as he drops Lance’s hand and wraps it around his waist, bumping into Keith’s hand that still rests at the small of Lance’s back. Shiro grabs it, tight, and intertwines their fingers as his prosthetic hand come forth to rest on Lance’s jaw for a moment before letting it drop to the crook of his neck. 

 

“You are both amazing,” Keith breathes from beside them, and Lance drops back from the kiss slowly. Shiro’s breathless as he turns his head, meeting Keith’s eyes and giving a soft smile. He moves his hand from Lance’s neck to reach out and tangle his fingers in the longer strands of Keith’s hair at the back of his neck, gently pulling him into a slow kiss. 

 

***

 

Shiro is in what he could only describe as euphoria for the next two weeks. Lance shares a bed with Keith and Shiro now, happily. It’s warmer, now, and waking up with not only Keith, but Lance there at his side makes his heart thrum with elation. Being able to casually rest his hand at Lance’s nape and brush the soft skin there with the pad of his thumb is better than he thought it would be. The softness that Lance holds when he looks at Shiro, or when Keith says something that just makes Lance  _ look _ at him… 

 

It’s the best thing Shiro could have asks for. 

 

He felt guilty, at first. He felt horrible for thinking that there was something missing. Someone missing from his and Keith’s relationship. But he would have been happy with Keith, it would have been good and perfect and Shiro would never let those moments go or wish they were different. Now, though. Now, whatever it is that has changed in their dynamic  _ because  _ of Lance is perfect. The push and pull Shiro and Keith always had is no longer bordering on violent. No longer led by the fear of being caught by the Empire and now led by a want to be better. To be great for Lance, for each other, for themselves. It’s perfect, and it’s right, and Shiro, as he sits in the pilot seat at too-late an hour where he shared his first kiss with Lance, can’t help but smile like an idiot. He looks down at his prosthetic, opens it, then forms a tight fist. 

 

His memories come in like an ocean’s tide, now, but he cares more for the new than the old these past days. The pain of a lost past doesn’t matter that much when he’s found two special somethings so perfectly entangled that it numbs the sting of every scar the Empire had sewn into his skin. Shiro settles his elbow on the armrest and lays his head against his fist, letting out a deep, content sigh. 

 

Two days left. 

 

Two full day cycles, and they would arrive at the planet where the Five reside, and things would change forever. The Blade of Marmora, represented by Keith, Kolivan, and Krolia, would be large backers in preventing some sort of mistake that all Galra are associated with the Empire. Shiro would represent the humans, which, unbeknownst to them, are in grave danger. If, just possibly, everything works out, Lance will take his place as one of the Five, and the world will be better for it. The leaders which poison the universe with corruption will be put out, and Shiro will be able to look at the stars without fear. 

 

Danger is still there. There’s a chance the Five turn them away, and ruin the universe in the process. There’s a chance the refuse to watch the video of Zarkon driving his blade through Alfor’s chest and plummeting it all into chaos and anarchy. No rules, no safety, and definitely no justice. 

 

Shiro thinks, suddenly, that even if nothing works out, even if the Five turn them away, and leave them to rot, he will die without regrets. He will die with Keith and Lance behind his eyelids, and though he wishes that he can fix it all and live long, he will not fear the end. He’s faced death before, and is not afraid, which is ridiculous. Of course, visiting the Astral Plane for frightening amounts of time as ‘experiments’ makes one a little jaded, he thinks.

 

“Nightmares again?” A voice, Keith, calls from behind. Shiro smiles against his fist at the raspy tone Keith’s using. He’s slept well ever since Lance joined their quarters.

 

“No, nothing like that. Just wanted to think,” Shiro shakes his head and feels hands fall to his shoulders, press into the muscles there. He hums at the pressure, sits up straighter and drops his prosthetic arm down. “Did you ever feel like something was missing? Before Lance, I mean.”

 

The hands pause on his shoulders for such a short time that anyone who didn’t know Keith wouldn’t have noticed it. They continue, and press into the tension within hard-earned bulk, and Shiro drops his head back into Keith’s chest. Keith says, “Sort of. It wasn’t like… something was missing. More like something between us wasn’t fitting right.”

 

Shiro considered it, and nodded. Keith’s right. Lance filed out all of the bumps, and allowed the puzzle pieces to fall into line. “Yeah,” He mutters. “It’s strange.”

 

Keith doesn’t respond, but continues to work his hands into Shiro’s shoulders. Shiro feels the tension melt under expert hands and feels the firm beat of Keith’s heart against the back of his head. The sound of Keith’s breathing is what he ends up focusing on, counting each breath in a steady push and pull of air. Something of a lullaby for Shiro, since he often falls asleep listening to it.

 

“How do you think this is going to go?” Keith finally asks, and it’s a heavy question. One Shiro is almost afraid to answer, as if words might make it written within stone. “We have proof, and a royal descendant, but none of that makes them listen to us.”

 

“I know,” Shiro sighs. “I think it works or it doesn’t. We just… We have to try. Otherwise, Zarkon won’t stop his search for pure quintessence until every part of the universe is in ruins.”

 

“Yeah,” Keith breathes, pressing his thumbs into a particularly sore spot of knotted muscle, making Shiro groan and drop his head to the side as Keith worked the tension free. “Good?”

 

“Mmn, yes,” Shiro mutters, breathing out a calming sigh. They would be facing things none of them want to, but all of them have to, and though Shiro was afraid… He wasn’t going to back down. He’d spent far to long stuck beneath Zarkon’s thumb to be a coward now, so he would stand beside Keith and Lance, and walk into it as bravely as possible. 

 

After all, the whole universe, though it doesn’t realize, is counting on them.

 

“Come on,” Keith says, hands slowing and sliding over his shoulders soothingly. “Let’s go back to bed before Lance gets lonely. You know how he gets without his beauty sleep.”

 

Shiro grins to himself. “Yeah, alright.”

 

***

 

The fateful day arrives unceremoniously, but with all of the dread Shiro expected. His stomach is turning with nausea and anxiety, but he’s steeled himself. Watching the view screen as Keith sets the ship down onto the landing pad, Shiro sucks in a deep breath, holds it until it burns, then lets it back out. There’s a hand in his, and he looks over. 

 

Lance’s lips quirk up, slides his thumb over the back of Shiro’s hand. Shiro’s heart melts where it beats in his chest, stuttering and growing fast with fondness that’s only grown. Shiro gives a nods and takes another breath. All he can do now, is hope, as they make their way out towards the ship’s exit. Keith has his shoulders drawn up and tense, and Lance’s expression is grim. Shiro feels like he might fall apart if he doesn’t keep moving forward, so he barely pauses to tug on his helmet, and it seems Lance and Keith have the same idea, since they’re all walking down the exit ramp before it’s properly hit the ground. 

 

Shiro’s eyes are fast to count. Three guards, armed to the teeth in full armor. Keith has his dagger, and Lance has his broadsword. They’ll be fine, he tells himself. They won’t hurt them unless they pose a threat. Of course, two men in Galran armor, despite connections to the Blade of Marmora, are a sign to be on guard for most. 

 

“State your names and business.” One of the guards say, and Shiro steps up to the plate. 

 

“I’m Shiro, a member of the Blade of Marmora, this is Keith, also a Blade, and this is Lance Esperaan. He’s a descendent of the original Blue Paladin. We mean no harm, and we have a very urgent matter pertaining to the death of Black Paladin Alfor,” Shiro says, keeping his voice steady and hoping that it doesn’t waver as he speaks. His heart is racing, he can hear it in his ears and feel it in his fingertips. “We request audience with the Five.”

 

The guards pass glances between each other, seeming dubious, yet all deferring to the one that prodded at Shiro in the first place. He glares into what feels like Shiro’s very soul for a long moment, until finally he nods and says, “Follow me.”

 

Shiro glances to Keith, who meets his eyes with a soft shrug. “Guys, come on,” Lance prods, because the guard is already marching away without a second glance their way. The three of them are quick to follow, catching up and falling into step with behind the guard. It’s tense, the walk, and people of all species are staring them down. Their armor gives away their association with the Blades, despite being an alliance group. There’s a sinking dread in Shiro’s chest, the closer to the large stairwell they get, the silence only broken by footsteps and whispers as they rise up and up and up until they finally reach the front of the castle.

 

Shiro gulps. 

 

“Three for audience,” The guard says, then continues in a language Shiro is clueless to understand. He’s only ever known English and Galran, and at times like these, he wishes he’d brought an automatic translator. The guard glances over his shoulder and waves them forward into the doorway that slides open, only to reach further into the castle. In front of them, a grand door that is frighteningly large. The blue, white, and grey color scheme should have been bland and clinical, but it only took Shiro’s breath with its elegance. He’d seen grand structures before, but never something so benevolent yet intimidating. Unlike the previous room, this one is void of life, only the hum of an engine and the steady murmur of talk outside. It’s deafening. 

 

The doors slide open silently, and Shiro’s heart feels like it might stop. He puts on a brave face, because there’s no going back. He reached to the sides with both hands and takes Lance’s a Keith’s for a moment, squeezing tight, and being squeezed in return before dropping them and squaring his shoulders. 

 

_ Don’t let this be for nothing. _

 

***

 

“This is proof of what, exactly?” Red sneers. The elderly Flaxion crossed his arms over his chest, long draped robes hanging from his fragile frame pitifully. “All we see here is Zarkon cleaning a blade! He could have been protecting Alfor!”

 

Shiro feels the anger seething from Keith who sits beside him, armor cracking beneath his fingers clenching at his biceps. “No, sir, that is not what you see,” Keith says, and keeps his voice surprisingly level. The bubble of pride in Shiro’s chest is hard to snuff out. “What you should see is the obvious stance that he would use to impale Alfor, and the glow of a corrupted quintessence poison used on his blade coming from Alfor’s chest.”

 

“Preposterous,” Blue interjects, their nose wrinkling and disapproval striking through Shiro. They’re from a violent species that was lucky to be part of the Coalition, Shiro thinks. They’d do good to remember where their people used to be. “Zarkon and Alfor were close friends! In fact, I’d say they were like brothers in arms.”

 

“They were,” Shiro says, nodding. “But Zarkon has been using quintessence for ten decaphoebs now. He’s completely corrupted and addicted. And here,” Shiro says, pulling the small chip from his projector that was playing the video of Zarkon, and replacing it with a new one. “You can see that Zarkon’s troops have been collecting around quintessence deposits. Here, you can find the extreme requests for funds early on, and now, records of meeting with illegal quintessence dealers, connections with Druid rings, and associations with many people who are now known to be affiliated with Haggar. Zarkon is spreading ruin, and if we don’t stop it now, the worst will come to pass.”

 

Blue scoffs, and Red sighs. Blue speaks up, “I think I speak for us all when I say that these accusations are ridiculous.”

 

“No,” Green interjects, standing from her chair with a slow grace. “I think you speak for very few of us. Takashi Shirogane, you says you knew of evidence that might anger us more than any other. Is it also talk of corruption?”

 

“Yes,” Shiro says, eyeing Red and Blue. “I have concrete proof that the Red and Blue Paladins have been working with Zarkon and reaping benefits of quintessence trade. Also, conspiring against Alfor, as well as talk of taking down major planetary systems under oath of peace within the Coalition.”

 

Green and Yellow's displeasure is visible, tension thick as Shiro lets the information speak for itself. It’s obvious, the nervous expressions painting over Red and Blue’s face is in a way, immensely satisfying. If Yellow and Green both decide that Red and Blue are unfit…

 

“I was Alfor’s Right Hand, and before Zarkon stepped down, his Right Hand,” Red bursts out, shoving himself out of his chair and planting his hands onto the table. His three eyes all bore into Shiro, and Shiro doesn’t back down. Instead, he stares right back. “I was loyal to them both, and I would have never sought either of their deaths! Do not disgrace Zarkon’s legacy with such…  _ filth _ !”

 

“ _ Filth _ ?” Keith hisses. “The only  _ filth _ here is you and the Blue Paladin. Do you not understand? What we’ve brought is legitimate. In fact, you can meet with Kolivan of the Blades to have him approve and verify. Zarkon is evil, and if you stand with him, I think that  _ I _ speak for the entirety of the Coalition when I say that you are, too.”

 

Red stands with wide eyes and his mouth dropped open, aghast. Shiro has to keep the satisfied grin off of his face. With the way that Green and Yellow are both looking at each other, Shiro knows that they have already won. It’s a strange sense of relief, and calm that washes over him, if only for a moment. 

 

That is, until Blue pulls their bayard free with a growl that is nothing but animalistic. “I will  _ not _ be denied my rightful place in the Coalition, or the Empire!”

 

The sound of a shot firing throws the world into slow motion. Or, at least, it feels like it does, because the last thing he sees is the brightest of blues shining so intensely that he brings both of his arms up to cover his eyes. But, he realizes, he can’t move at all. He’s frozen, and can see the laser bullet between them all. There’s movement to his right, where Lance was standing, and he glances across the Paladins’ faces. Green and Yellow look scared, Shiro thinks, and furious. Red and Blue look like everything he’s ever known, the faces of people fighting for something they know that they shouldn’t. That they know is wrong and corrupt but cannot truly see it through the thick greed-colored glasses. 

 

For a moment, Shiro thinks of killing them. 

 

He could, he really, truly could. All it would take is getting in close and a single thought, and suddenly, they would be gone. Dead, by his hand, but Shiro knows better. Has learned better from Lance and Keith, the Blades. Perhaps being with the Empire was the easier choice, but for once, Shiro knows that he made the right one. 

 

Lance moves forward, though it seems the rest of them are still completely frozen. Shiro struggles, and sees Lance turn toward him. There’s a smile on his face, and the cerulean tones of his eyes and markings glow. Shiro can only describe it as ethereal. “Don’t struggle. I’ll let you free once I take care of this.”

 

This, being the bullet that he simply waves a hand through, dissolving it into nothing but particles within the glimmering azure tint that seems to emanate from Lance, the room almost bending and shifting around him as if he’s a singularity. Lance doesn’t stop there, no, Shiro watches as he walks over to the Blue and Red paladins, frowning hard and glaring. It sends a shiver of fear down Shiro’s spine, but it isn’t him that is truly afraid. 

 

“You destroy my home,” Lance starts, voice level but seething at the same time. “You take my best friend’s father, you  _ fire on my loved ones _ , you threaten the universe with your endless needs for quintessence, and yet, you still want more. You still serve a man who would let you die without even a single tear shed. Do you truly believe that being loyal to Zarkon will get you  _ anywhere _ ? Do you really think that he will allow you to live happily? I’ve seen what the Empire does to people; respectable,  _ good _ people. If you were in the Empire doing this, you’d be beheaded on the spot…”

 

Shiro’s heart is racing. He’s never seen Lance like this, and it’s amazing. The power, the confidence, the  _ strength _ of someone who only wants the world to be at peace. He glances over Lance’s form and sees the tension. He’s draining himself, he’s going to end up hurting himself keeping it like this, but Shiro can’t even warn him. Lance’s fists clench, and Shiro wishes he could do the same with his jaw. He sucks in a breath visibly and lets it out, but there’s no less tension in his shoulders. 

 

“But this isn’t the Empire, and I’m not Zarkon,” Lance says, plucking Blue’s bayard from his hands and moving it to hover above the table. Shiro watches with a pride that he can’t decipher. Lance’s power is astonishingly beautiful and mind-bending. “I think I can say that you will be punished, thoroughly, for your crimes. Either here, in the Coalition, or at the hands of the Blades.” 

 

He turns and looks at Yellow and Green with a much kinder gaze. 

 

Shiro loves him. 

 

“I hope you have seen reason. I hope that you will understand that the Red and Blue paladins are not good people, and should face sufficient punishments for their traitorous crimes.” Then, he turns one last time and briefly touches both the Blue and Red paladins’ necks, and the magic within the room shutters and recedes back into Lance. The paladins he touched drop to the floor, unconscious, and the bayard clatters onto the table in its base form. Lance hunched over the surface, coughing and gasping for air. The moment Shiro can move, he’s stepping toward Lance, and Keith is right at his side. 

 

Lance gasps and drops to his knees, leaning heavily against the table’s edge. Shiro can’t focus on anything but taking care of him and making sure he’s alright. “Oh G-Gods, I shouldn’t have-”

 

Lance can’t finish his sentence before he’s coughing again, and Shiro touches his back with his human hand. He turns his head up and meets Yellow’s eyes. “Please, get some help.”

 

Yellow’s single eye widens and scurries off out of the room. The Green paladin pulls out her datapad, but Shiro doesn’t continue watching for long enough to find out what she’s doing. He moves his prosthetic to Lance’s chest and tugs him gently from the table. “Lance, lean back into me. Let’s get you in a chair, okay?”

 

Lance nods with a cough, leaning back with what little strength he has and goes limp against Shiro’s chest. Shiro braces his arms underneath Lance’s and lifts, Keith having pulled out a chair and moved it close, holding it in place while Shiro shifts, stands, and lowers Lance onto the padded seat. He slumps into the tall chair with a groan, body leaning off to the side, but Keith catches his weight just in time. Then, without any warning, his eyes fall closed, and he passes out. Shiro glaces up, meets Keith’s eyes, and lets out a breath. 

 

The message of  _ we can’t lose him now _ gets across without a hint of doubt. Shiro’s heart is in his stomach, but adrenalin keeps him from losing his lunch or passing out, too. He doesn’t have a choice. Lance needs him, and he can’t fail.

 

He  _ won’t  _ fail.


	3. Lance

“Do you remember when I gave you my coat that first night after you crash landed?” Lance asks, staring up and mapping out now familiar constellations that make him think of what was once his home. Keith hums in approval at his side, and Lance grins up at the stars. “You looks really cute in it.”

 

Keith scoffs, but Lance can envision the blushing and internal sputtering by the way his hand twitches in his own and his breath catches a little in his throat. Sharper hearing always came in handy for this sort of thing. “Still have it?”

 

“What, the jacket?”

 

“No, the ship that I crashed in,” Keith deadpans. Lance used to feel defensive at Keith's humor, even after they first got together, but now it's simply endearing. It makes him smile. “ _ Yes _ , the jacket.”

 

“Yeah. It’s at Hunk’s, I think. I left it with him by accident when I was saying goodbye. It’s been five years and I still haven’t gotten around to actually getting it back,” Lance chuckles. “One of these days, he’ll just throw it out.”

 

“Nah, Hunk would never do that.” Keith says, and he’s right. Lance nods, even though Keith isn’t looking. 

 

“No, he wouldn’t.” Lance smiles to himself as he thinks of one of his best friends. Hunk is too kind for his own good, and willing to do anything for those he loves. It makes Lance's heart feel warm. Hunk is one of the best people Lance has ever met.

 

“Wow…” Keith breathes, and it catches Lance's attention. “Has it really been five years?”

 

“And counting,” Lance sighs. “It’s crazy, I know. Sometimes, I feel like it was just yesterday that we became paladins.”

 

“For our lifespans? It practically is,” Keith scoffs, shifting one leg and Lance can feel it press along the length of his own. “Humans live such short lives, it’s astonishing to think that someone can live for barely a century.”

 

“Yeah…” Lance mutters, frowning hard. “What about Shiro?”

 

“The Empire, they… they did a lot of experiments,” Keith says, voice growing hard and cold. “Including slowing his aging process with quintessence treatments. We were in the Empire for… for a long time.”

 

Lance lets out a breath. It hurts to think about what they might have done to Shiro. It hurts to think that they treated him like nothing more than a valuable tool, even is it means that he has a longer life to spend with him and Keith. Even if it means that Lance can have a million moments. 

 

Lance would rather lose Shiro than let him go through being Haggar’s pet again.

 

“How long?”

 

Keith is silent for a long moment, before taking in a breath and gripping Lance’s hand tighter. “Thirty-seven decapheobs.”

 

Lance’s heart drops. 

 

“God, Keith,” Lance turns his head and pulling Keith’s hand to his chest. “I’m so sorry.”

 

Keith turns to look at Lance, and his expression is heart wrenching, but it’s still warm. His lips quirk up, and Lance’s heart rises back up into his chest. “Don’t be.” 

 

The  _ it led us to you  _ is left unsays, but understood.

 

***

 

“Hey!” Hunk greets with a wide smile as he steps into Lance’s apartment that he shares with Shiro and Keith. Having a place to live on Earth was nice for when he had the time to just be there. It wasn’t often he did, but the six month break they’d been afforded is more than warranted after two full years of constant chaos. Lance shuts the door behind Hunk with a smile. “I brought cookies and an invitation!” 

 

“Invitation?” Lance asks. “To what?”

 

“Allura called yesterday, says she and Coran would be visiting the week of Christmas. So, I thought I’d throw a little get-together since you guys were all gone every year, and this one you’ll be staying until after New Years,” Hunk says as they make their way into the kitchen. He sets down the paper bag full of cookies, unrolls the top and grabs two, handing one over to Lance. “It's just gonna be me and Pidge and you guys, plus Allura, of course. And I asks Shay if she could come down, but the jury's still out on that one.”

 

“Yeah, I do miss celebrating Christmas…” Lance mutters to himself, mostly, but loud enough for Hunk to hear. He observes the cookie, little tree shapes and iced with a hardened green-colored mixture and tiny sprinkles. It makes Lance grin to himself as he takes a bite and savors the flavor. Hunk is nothing less than magical in the kitchen. “I miss seeing everyone and just hanging out. I usually just see Shiro and Keith.”

 

Hunk chuckles. “Never seemed to be much a problem for you.” He points out, and yeah, he has a point.  

 

“Well, no,” Lance huffs through sugar cookie. “But I do miss you and Pidge. And I haven’t seen Allura in a month since she went to Mercollom. Being a Paladin isn’t really that great for the social life.”

 

“How’s that going, by the way?” Hunk asks, biting at his cookie methodically as he leans against the countertop. “I mean, I know it’s hard work, but is everything going okay? The Garrison doesn’t give us much info on it all.”

 

“Yeah, everything’s going fine!” Lance smiles, swallowing down the bite of treat. “Since we finally found and imprisoned Haggar, Keith’s been able to take his place as the Black Paladin without any question of where he lies, and Shiro is to be officially allowed in as the White Paladin. And Flissin took their place as Blue after like, a year of talking about it since no one expect me, Shiro, and Keith could agree on anything at all.”

 

Hunk cocks an eyebrow. “That’s great and all, but how are  _ you _ feeling about it?”

 

Lance goes to speak, pauses, then rethinks. How does he feeel about it…? That’s not really something he’s let himself think about. It’s not something he’s sat down and really considered, since his life is arguing and diplomacy. “I’m… very happy to have a break for six months. It’s exhausting. I barely get any time with you guys, or with Shiro and Keith. But I love doing it. I love fighting for what I believe in and protecting the universe. No one else will, and I love meeting so many new people, it’s just…” 

 

“You miss being free to live how you want?”

 

Lance lets out a huff and nods, taking another bite of his cookie. “You says it.”

 

***

 

“Happy holidays!” Pidge grins, letting the three inside. Lance sets down his bag with a huff, glancing around. Pidge and Hunk’s house is decked out almost completely with holiday decor. There’s a tree in the corner with ornaments hung carefully all around and lit up so bright Lance has to squint a little. “Come in, come in!”

 

“Hey, guys! That's the last of us! Let's get this party started! Allura's getting changed right now, but she'll be out in a minute.” Hunk hollers, grinning wide and tugging the three into a tight hug. “This is gonna be the best Christmas ever! I made my mom's special apple pie for dessert, so I know that it's gonna be really good.”

 

“Can't wait,” Keith grunts against Lance's ear, squished against him from Hunk's hug. “Sure it'll be great once I can breathe.”

 

“Oh, sorry!” Hunk chuckles, and Lance smiles at his as they're released. “I'm just excited to see you guys.”

 

“We're excited to see you, too, buddy!” Lance says. “Let's get settled in and have dinner, then presents?”

 

“Yeah!”

 

“Ooh, I'm so excited!”

 

“Let's do it.”

 

***

 

The next morning, after gifts had been exchanged between friends, laughs and love shared between them and bellies stuffed full of Hunk's amazing food, Lance wakes to the sound of sizzling food and Shiro's laughter. It's a wonderful sound, and Keith's soft scoff after makes Lance give a sleepy grin as he tugs himself from his warm bed and into the bathroom. 

 

After all, last night wasn't the end of the gift giving. 

 

Lance looks at himself in the reflection, reaching up to try and tame his messy bedhead as much as possible. 

 

_ Even after five years _ . 

 

The thought hits him like a bag of bricks. He never wants to wake up without Shiro and Keith. It's a thought he's toyed with, sure, but now… 

 

It's real. It's  _ serious _ . It's true that they're a part of him now, a part of who he is. He doesn't ever want to risk losing that, or not having them there in the mornings and knowing they'll be there when it matters.

 

Lance loves them. More than anything. Lance's hands fall to the countertop, staring himself in the eye and letting out a breath.

 

“Morning,”

 

“Fuck!” Lance cries, jumping and stumbling back a little. He turns to the doorway and sees Keith there, leaning against the frame. An amused little smirk on his face that leaves Lance's heart fluttering at the same time as annoyance builds in his chest. “Keith, fuck, knock next time!”

 

“It's not like I'll see anything new,” Keith snorts, stepping into the bathroom and grabbing the hairbrush. He tugs it through his hair roughly, as he always has, and Lance turns to drop his body back against the counter, a hand against his chest. 

 

“No, but maybe I won't be scared out of my mind next time!” Lance fusses, frowning hard as he glares at Keith. After a moment, though, a devious little smirk toys at his features. “I think you should make me feel better.”

 

Keith glances over and puts down his hairbrush, stepping up close and setting a hand on Lance's hip, the other resting next to Lance’s hand on the counter. He leans in and Lance smiles when he's given a sweet, slow kiss. Keith moves to leave it, but Lance make a noise in the back of his throat and grabs the front of Keith's shirt to keep him right where he wants him. 

 

“We should probably,” Keith starts between kisses. “Go get breakfast before Shiro comes… looking for us.”

 

“I wouldn't mind giving him some kisses, too.” Lance mutters against Keith's lips and continues kissing him and feeling the skipped beat in his heart as Keith's thumb brushes under his shirt and simply makes contact with the skin. Calloused, rough fingers slide to the small of his back and pull him close and the slow intimacy of the mint flavored kiss leaves Lance’s breath stuttering from his lungs. Lance’s hand moves from the front of Keith's shirt up to where his hair is loosely pulled back in a ponytail, pushing underneath to rest his hand against Keith's nape.

 

Two soft knocks sound against the bathroom door, and Lance breaks the kiss suddenly in surprise. He turns to see Shiro standing there with a pleased look on his face. “Don't stop on my account.”

 

“Thought you had breakfast cooking?” Lance hums, parting from Keith finally, though he hates the sudden chill where his hands were, to step towards Shiro and tug him down into a soft kiss. Shiro's hands fall to Lance's hips, encasing them with a warm pressure.

 

“I do, but I figured I’d come see what was taking Keith so long to wake you up,” Shiro chuckles, pressing a kiss to Lance's forehead. “I should probably get back. It's almost ready so hurry and come out here.”

 

“We will, we will,” Keith chuckled. “Go tend to your eggs, it’s the first time you’ve cooked them successfully.”

 

Shiro rolls his eyes and scoffs softly, turning and leaving the bedroom. Lance grins to himself and reaches out a hand for Keith to take, tugging him into the kitchen. Lance can smell the fresh spices and herbs being used for the breakfast, surely Keith's recipe. Shiro wasn't exactly a gifted cook, but with practice, he's definitely gotten better. 

 

Lance still remembered the faint taste of powdered sugar of Shiro's face from a baking experiment gone awry. It was sweet, and it almost distracted him from the way Shiro's hands rest gentle against his cheeks, holding him like he's precious. 

 

_ “You are adorable,” Shiro says. _

 

_ “And you're sweet,” Lance hummed. “But that's the sugar's fault.” _

 

He smiles to himself at the memory as he tugs Keith along until they reach the kitchen. Shiro's set up three plates with eggs, some sort of meat Keith bought that looks vaguely bacon like, except it's purple, and slices of toast with yazomin fruit jelly on it. Lance loves the stuff, and can’t help but feel a little touched that they made something they know he likes.. Shiro chuckles and sits at the table. “I did my best but if it’s bad, blame Keith.”

 

“Hey!” Keith hollers with a grin. “I didn't do anything!”

 

“It's  _ your _ recipe,” Shiro smirks cheekily, jabbing his fork in Keith's direction.“So I can’t be blamed if it tastes bad in the first place.”

 

“Yeah, well, this is one of Lance’s favorites, so,” Keith shrugs, sitting down at the table finally and digging in to his own food. Lance takes a bite of each first, and none of it is bad. The weird not-bacon isn’t that bad, though a little overdone, but the jelly is perfect. There’s even extra, and Lance takes them right away. 

 

“I take that as approval?” Shiro asks, and there’s a hint of nervousness in his voice. It makes Lance look up and smile with full cheeks and nod. 

 

“It’s really good. Both of you did really good.” Lance says, muffled through food and he hovers a hand over his mouth to talk. “Thanks for making my favorite.”

 

“It’s Christmas morning. I guess… in a way it makes me happy. I barely remember when my dad would make a big breakfast on the holiday mornings and my mom would be getting things cleaned up for guests,” Shiro sighs. “I guess I miss it in a way, and… I wanted to do something for you guys. Even if it did take a little help from Keith.”

 

The grin on Shiro’s face is honest and beautiful, and Lance can feel his heart melt a little at the innocent look on his face. The marking forcefully placed upon his skin mean nothing when he looking at Lance and Keith with the softest expression. Lance swallows his food and smiles, feeling a faint warmth rise to his cheeks. 

 

After breakfast, Lance and Keith clean the dishes. Shiro excuses himself from the kitchen and quickly hurries off into the living area. Though they hadn’t put up a tree or any decorations, there was a small pile of gifts that were specially shared between them rather than in front of all of their friends. Lance’s excitement rises at the thought, a little grin pulling at his lips.

 

“Keith, Lance! Come here!” Shiro calls from the living room. There’s a nervous edge to his voice. Lance’s stomach drops as he glances to Keith, who shrugs in response. Lance frowns, both of them quickly wiping their hands dry and heading into the family room. 

 

Lance turns the corner and halts harshly. Shiro’s kneeling, cheeks a little redder than usual, holding two black velvet boxes in each hand. Lance covers his mouth to stop the assumptions, to stop the hope from bubbling out.  _ Oh, please, let this be real _ .

 

“Shiro?” Keith asks, voice soft as he steps ahead of Lance. Lance watches the soft smile on Shiro’s face grow warm at Keith’s voice. Tears begin to well in Lance’s eyes, heart pounding and stomach flipping in his abdomen. 

 

“Okay, uhm,” Shiro starts, then laughs, before trying again. “I had a whole speech thought out… Lance, Keith… I love you both from the bottom of my heart. Keith, you’ve been there since I was just a brainwashed soldier for a bad man, and you saw what I couldn’t. You brought out what I wanted to become and allowed me to reach it. Lance, I met you in the most unlikely of circumstances. I met you thinking you would be nothing but a hostage, only to learn that the only hostage was my heart to both of you. Both of you led me to relearning my old life, reconnecting with old friends and making new ones. Lance, you showed me what true kindness and confidence looks like. Keith, you showed me loyalty and trust. My life would be nothing if you both were not in it. You two are a part of me.”

 

Shiro chokes up, clenches his jaw, and swallows. “A part that I want to have for as long as I possibly can. Lance, Keith, will you both accept these rings? Will you marry me?”

 

Keith turns his head to Lance. His eyes are soft and expectant, and Lance moves forward as fast as he possibly can, gripping Keith’s hand in his own. He meets Keith’s eyes, and knows.

 

There’s only one answer on their lips. 

  
“ _ Yes _ .”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks so much for reading!!!


End file.
